


Reconstruction

by Azure_Lynx



Series: Post-Severance [2]
Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Season 2, Azure Fixes Everything, Bonding? So much bonding, Fix-it fic, Found Family, Lots of Angst, Multi, lots of friendship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_Lynx/pseuds/Azure_Lynx
Summary: The Mutant Underground and the Inner Circle find themselves in a new city, starting a new life. Sentinel Services thinks they're all dead, which allows freedom, but life is far from stressless.Each faction does what it can to improve life for mutantkind. The Mutant Underground continues its rescue missions, while the Inner Circle finds themselves with...loftier goals. But they have to take care of their personal issues, too.After the adjustment period, you begin reconstruction.(Alternative Season 2, AU based a few months after Adjustment)





	1. Chapter 1

It had been six months since the Hellfire Club had managed to recruit Lorna Dane, and five months since she had begun working for the Inner Circle. In that time she had appeared on the news at least twice and narrowly avoided any other recognition, with a lot of help from Reeva Payge.

Lorna was pregnant. Her powers were unsteady. And according to all official channels, she was dead. It was incredibly foolish to have her cavorting around in the world causing mayhem, especially with Andrew Strucker, a child who was _also_ supposed to be dead, at her side.

Reeva was _tired_. Her companions were too brazen, ordering random useless attacks, striking fear. They’d been branded terrorists and half their actions had exactly the opposite results as intended, and it was only her tireless PR work that kept them from being at the top of Sentinel Services’ most wanted.

She was the only one of her peers standing. The rest of the leaders of the Inner Circle were sitting around the table, but Reeva refused to sit, instead resting behind the chair with her freshly-manicured nails tapping the leather of the seat. The three Frost sisters stood behind her menacingly, and all eyes were on her.

Reeva looked around the table. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she declared smoothly, “it’s time for a transition of power.”

And then she screamed.

* * *

“I’m just saying, you spend the night here most of the time anyway, it would be more cost-efficient if you moved in.”

“Yeah, I know, Reed, but how do you think the landlord would react to your live-in mutant boyfriend?” Marcos rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying that guy doesn’t trust us anyway, let’s not give him more reason to pay attention to us.”

They’d had this argument at least three times since moving in, with various people taking various sides each time, and it was starting to get old. Lauren wished they would knock it off already.

“At least you live next door,” her mother chimed in, forcing optimism. 

“You’re only fighting because you don’t like the pressure of having to keep your relationship a secret,” she commented, not bothering to look up from the newspaper where she was filling out a sudoku puzzle. “So don’t. Go on a date, all three of you, kiss in public. Whatever.” She added a one into the top left box.

Her dad grinned. “Listen to you, little miss psychoanalyst,” he teased, reaching across the breakfast table to ruffle her hair. “Seems like you’re enjoying your coursework.” It made her feel like a kid again, but she didn’t mind all that much. These were some of the few times she could let herself feel like a kid.

“It’s pretty cool,” she agreed, taking a mouthful of corn flakes. “Even if I don’t actually get college credit, I like learning stuff.” She’d thought about enrolling at an actual online university, but it seemed too daunting at this point. Dangerous, too, even with the fake credentials her dad had made them. 

“Has this swayed you from nursing to psychology? Because you’re pretty damn good at calling us on our bullshit,” Marcos teased.

Lauren took a sip of coffee. “I’m not giving up on anything until I’m actually in college and they force me to make a decision.” She finally looked up and cracked a grin, gearing up for her favorite kind of joke. “You know I’m a useless bisexual. I can’t just _choose_.”

Her mother groaned and rolled her eyes while Marcos rewarded Lauren with a grin and a chuckle. 

In truth, Lauren really _didn’t_ know what she wanted, behind the jokes and the fake certainty. For a long time, she hadn’t even been sure she’d live to see her eighteenth birthday, but it had come and gone without much fanfare, and here she was, without a plan, without a clue. Once upon a time she _had_ wanted to be a nurse; she wasn’t making that up for Marcos. She hadn’t really given up on it, even after discovering she was a mutant and lying to her family for years, but it was more of a pipe dream that kept her going in the dark, a “Someday, things will be different.”

Now things _were_ different, and Lauren found she didn’t know how to move forward.

Everyone seemed so unsettled these days; it felt like she had to be strong, had to be sure, to hold everyone together. Even John wasn’t as solid as he’d been before The Severance. Lauren would never admit it out loud, but he’d been the one she looked up to the most, the kind of strong and sure leader she always wanted to be. Now, he seemed just as unsteady as she was on the inside.

It had been easier when they were in crisis mode, somehow. When the four of them were on the run from the Sentinel Services, then finding themselves a whole new cause, then joining a bigger fight. It’s easy not to get lost when there’s only one choice for your next move and you don’t know if you’ll make it farther than that. 

But this? The held breath of fake domesticity under fake names while half her new family went crazy trying to get Lorna and Andy back and the other half was going crazy trying to win a war with a ball of yarn and a prayer? This was exactly the kind of space that gave Lauren far too much time to think about all the things she didn’t know or understand or feel.

“Sweetheart?” Her father’s voice brought her back to reality.

She shook her head. “Sorry. Hm?”

“Where were ya?” her dad asked with a smile. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She shook her head again, more forcefully, trying to clear the lingering self doubt. “Nothing important,” she declared, and hoped that made it true.

* * *

Clarice really liked movies. When she was younger, she’d consoled herself about her powers and her eyes by telling herself she was like the superheroes in the sci-fi movies she’d watch with her foster siblings. Only as she got older and the mutant hatred got stronger, superhuman heroes got fewer and farther between. 

It’s one of the reasons she was a fan of older movies. 

“This is cheesy,” John declared, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl in her lap. “Incredibly over-acted.”

“Yeah, but it’s got positive metahuman portrayals, which is all that matters to me,” she shot back. “Now shush. This is the best part.” 

John groaned, but she could feel his smile against the back of her head as he pulled her in closer and gave her a kiss. 

There were a shit ton of explosions and then a very beautifully framed scene with the lead hero walking away from the wreckage to meet the villain who thought she had died. Clarice clapped excitedly, making John laugh, and then she shushed him again and recited the final monologue right along with the hero.

As the end credits rolled, John sighed appreciatively, pulling her closer. “This was fun,” he murmured into the back of her head.

“Told you.” She grinned. 

If they froze this one moment in time and lived in it forever, she knew she could be at absolute peace. Everything before - purifiers, the detention center, Atlanta, the move, all of it - nothing more than a bad dream. Everything that threatened to come after was irrelevant, all the responsibilities and horrors and demands. Here in this instant, watching her favorite movie, curled up against her favorite person, with her favorite dog at her feet - this was all that mattered.

John was the happiest he’d been in weeks, a fact that was not lost on Clarice. In truth, his habitual sadness and overthinking was part of why she’d suggested they watch the movie: nothing like explosions and cheesy dialogue and a happy ending to get you out of your head. 

She wanted to bottle this moment and pull it out for him the next time grief and guilt consumed him. The silly game they were playing, where he pretended he was fine and holding it together even though everyone could see he wasn’t, where he refused to ask Clarice or anyone for help and emotional support - it couldn’t go on forever. Not without killing him. So moments like this, where they could forget everything for awhile, just be two people in love, with good movies and a very fluffy dog...these were vital. And absolutely priceless.

Clarice shimmied herself to turn around so she was facing John, resting her forehead against his. “Self care is important,” she said, reaching out to rub his shoulders. “Sometimes you have to put down the weight of the world and watch a B-rated action flick from the 2000s.”

He laughed, leaning forward for a kiss. “I won’t argue with that,” he joked after pulling away, only to go in for a second kiss. And then a third.

Clarice pushed herself closer. Moments like this were definitely worth bottling.

* * *

There was no emotion quite so nice as watching a wall shatter to pieces in front of him. Andy Strucker found peace in destruction, in tearing things apart. It was steady, grounding. It was certain.

Andy liked to pretend that he was certain of everything. He didn’t want anyone to think of him as a child, because he was old enough to make his own decisions and he was old enough to know what he was doing. If he let on that he doubted himself, then what ground did he have to demand others not doubt him?

“Bravo,” Lorna drawled from behind him with a slow clap, and he whirled around to face her. She’d snuck up on him, as usual. “You’re getting better every day, kid.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he loved her praise anyway. Lorna made him feel powerful. 

Just to show off, he shattered a single brick from the rubble, flashing her a cocky grin. Maybe he was getting better - or at the very least, more precise. Once upon a time he would’ve needed Lauren’s help to direct his powers to that small a scale.

Lauren.

She was like a paper cut on his brain. He didn’t like to think about her that much - it hurt, and there were too many emotions. Pain, anger, fear, hope, protectiveness, gratitude…it was confusing to puzzle out. 

He thought of the last time he’d seen her. The cold with which he’d treated her. It was easier. To show her he missed her seemed weak, especially when he knew her opinion of what they’d been doing. He could choose to show the anger and the distaste, and hide the other things. And yet he hadn’t been able to hide that it felt good to fight with her again.

He missed her. There had literally never been a time in his life where his older sister wasn’t around - until now.

And that was enough of that. He slammed the box of emotions shut just as something small and cool hit him in the forehead.

“Doink,” Lorna declared, smiling impishly. Her body was that of a highly pregnant woman in her late twenties, but her spirit shone through with wild trickster energy. 

“Ow! The fuck?” he demanded, even though he was pretty sure he knew what had just happened.

She laughed at him, but it wasn’t mean, and he found himself smiling too. She had a way of doing that to him. “You let your guard down.” She lifted the ball bearing off the ground from his feet with a simple twitch of her fingers. “Which meant I could hit you.”

“So this means it’s my turn?” he asked, already plotting how to catch Lorna off guard. The last time he’d tagged her had been during a nap, and he doubted he’d be so lucky twice. It was a game, sure, a strategic exercise with practical applications that the two of them had thought up between missions, but it had become incredibly competitive and Andy was playing to win.

“You know it.” She laughed. “C’mon, Reeva’s called a meeting. She said it’s time for some major changes around here.” She beckoned him with a gesture and then turned on her heel to go to the war room.

_This ought to be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the beginnings of my rewrite, as promised. It's shaping up to be a big big project but I'm very excited about it and I'm doing my absolute best! Thank you all for joining me on this next journey. Can't wait to hear your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

Andy was awkwardly fidgeting in the big leather chair, one of several around a large glass table in the war room. The other chairs housed Lorna, Reeva, and Sage, while Mark leaned imposingly against the door and the three Frost sisters stood in a cluster. 

He glanced around at the walls, hospital white and bare but for some art his mother likely would’ve called “tasteful but drab.” There were dark sculptures on various surfaces. But by and large, the worst part was the chairs, stiff and cold and odd-smelling.

He didn’t feel quite right in the environment yet, its sterility and formality and dusty maturity, but Esme kept promising him he’d get used to it. Or he thought it was Esme. It was hard to tell them apart because they all dressed and acted the same, even though Esme was his favorite. They seemed to want to be three of the same person, but it didn’t exactly feel that way when Andy spoke to them. They were different, somehow.

“So what’s up?” He was the one to break the silence, because he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’ve made some changes,” Reeva declared grandly, smiling with her blood red lipstick and no teeth. “We’re going to be adopting a more...subtle strategy. No more big moves and flashy attacks.”

Lorna grunted, raising a single eyebrow. Andy couldn’t help but share that emotion. He’d thought things were going fine. 

“Our most important goal is and always has been making the world safer for mutants. But how, pray tell, does blowing up buildings like hooligans and making people fear and hate mutants make the world _safer_?” Reeva asked.

Andy was about to open his mouth and suggest maybe people would leave them alone if fear were a factor, but the look on her face silenced him. 

“A rhetorical question,” she declared. “It doesn’t. The real game isn’t dodgeball, it’s chess. She who owns the king owns the board. And I play to win.”

She let the statement settle over the room as the other members of the Inner Circle glanced about at each other. It was a far cry from the past few months’ strategy, and the other adults Andy had gotten used to were nowhere to be found.

He decided not to think too hard about that one.

“So where does that put us now?” Lorna asked, crossing her arms. She radiated distrustful energy. 

Reeva’s perfect acrylic nails tapped against the tabletop. “The first order of business is preparing for your child’s entry into the world. You can’t hold them in forever, dear, and a mutant like you - well, we need to take every precaution to make sure things go smoothly.”

Lorna’s shoulders relaxed and Andy figured that was a good thing to say to her. She’d confided in him about a lot of pregnancy anxieties, to which he promised her he would do everything in his power to keep her and her baby safe, but he supposed it was a little more reassuring to hear it from Reeva’s mouth than that of a hapless sixteen-year-old.

“Then, after the baby is delivered, I have made arrangements to begin sending Andrew to the Massachusetts Academy with some of our other mutant children.”

Andy’s heart dropped. “ _What?_ ” He couldn’t believe it. 

“You heard me, did you not?” Reeva replied coolly. “You’re going back to school. Your education has been on hold too long.”

One of the Frost sisters bit her lip and looked about ready to argue, but the other two fixed her with a steely glare and she melted back. Lorna, however, had no such qualms. 

“Absolutely not. The kid stays with me,” she demanded, reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder. He appreciated her support; it felt warm. “He’s my responsibility.”

He almost protested that he didn’t need to be anyone’s responsibility, but he decided to hold his tongue. It would probably only serve Reeva’s point.

Reeva pointed at him and he stared at her finger like it was the barrel of a gun. “This,” she began, “is a high school boy who didn’t even finish his sophomore year. This is not a soldier, and this is not a politician. I am not making a world where children fight my battles for me.” She fixed Lorna with a frosty stare. “I want him to get an education. I want him to have the same opportunities a human peer would have, because he will have the same future they will have. And I do _not_ want him ruining our missions with uneducated, childish incompetence.”

Each word stung sharper than any hit Lorna ever managed to land. Sure, it was nice that she seemed to care about him not having his life completely upended, the same way it was nice when his mom forced them all into a school back in the Mutant Underground. But he hated people acting like he was a baby, like school could matter when so much was at stake.

The table started to shake and Reeva fixed him with a pointed stare. Abruptly, he wrestled his powers back under control. 

“That is _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” she chastised.

“If he gets sent away, I’m leaving.” Lorna squeezed Andy’s shoulder again. “We’re a package deal.”

Reeva tsked. “You overestimate your value to me.” She seemed about ready to dismiss Lorna from the table in that minute, which seemed ridiculous to Andy; Lorna was probably the strongest mutant she had here.

“Wait!” One of the Frost sisters stepped forward, earning twin glares from the other two.

Reeva cocked her head curiously. “Yes, Esme?” There was challenge in her voice, but Andy was more preoccupied with the weird way she always seemed to know which sister was which. He wanted to know that secret.

“What if Andy completed some sort of...homeschooling?” Esme suggested, ending on an awkward uptick. “We have an excellent library, and he can take supplementary online courses…” She swallowed. “It’s not like he’d be able to go under his real name, anyway, and he wouldn’t get proof he’d graduated high school. Since he’s supposedly dead and all. So if it’s only for educational purposes, he could get that here.”

And this was why Esme was his favorite. Andy gave her a grateful smile, which she returned almost shyly before uncomfortably ducking back in line with her sisters. They were still glaring at her, and Andy wanted to tell them to leave her alone. She was just being a nice person, and he liked it.

“I could help,” Sage offered. “I can get him set up with the best educational programming the internet has to offer.” She didn’t look at him when she said it, just gave a small nod in his direction. Still, Sage didn’t speak up much, so it meant a lot to him.

“Hm.” Reeva pursed her lips. “It seems you have a few people who’d be sad to see you go, Andrew.” She clapped her hands once, then nodded. Andy couldn’t read her emotion but he hoped she wasn’t mad; he wanted Reeva to want him around. 

“Alright, then,” Reeva declared. “The boy stays. I will assign him readings I find valuable to his education and to the cause. The rest of you are responsible for everything else, since it means so much to you that he remains here. I will assess him at random intervals and if I find his education to be lacking, I will not hesitate to send him to school. Are we clear?” She stared at each of them, starting with Lorna and ending on Andy.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” she replied, but it wasn't a friendly response.

There was a tense silence as everyone waited until finally, Reeva spoke. “The next order of business after Andrew’s education is keeping our ear to the wall. I want to change congress, I want to disband Sentinel Services, and I want a mutant president.”

Andy blinked. The idea of a mutant president was...unfathomable. They’d only just had the first _female_ human president since the country’s founding; getting a mutant into office seemed a taller order than possible, these days.

“Is there a plan for this pipe dream of yours?” Lorna asked, cocking an eyebrow and popping one leather boot on the table, an impossibly cool move. “Or are we just getting by on hope?”

“The specifics are not your concern for now. We read newspapers, we scan the corners of the internet, we hack, we make connections.” Reeva ignored Lorna’s snark. “We find the weaknesses in the government and we use them. We find weaknesses in newsrooms and we use them. If there is an opportunity, we _will_ take it, and I don’t care how unsavory our bedfellows are. It could be Benedict Ryan for all I give a damn.”

Andy winced. The guy was the loudest, most obnoxious mutant-hater, not to mention homophobic and sexist and racist and probably some other things Andy couldn’t remember off the top of his head. He couldn’t imagine ever getting an opportunity from that man, and he’d rather smack the guy than work with him.

Reeva placed her hands dramatically on the table. “Slowly, we change the minds of Americans, but more importantly, we change the laws to protect mutantkind.”

Sage glanced up from the laptop open in front of her. “Speaking of newsrooms,” she cut in, and Andy’s heart dropped. He never liked news. “There’s been another raid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the cancellation news, I figured I'd post the second chapter a little earlier than I intended to. Give us some content in this trying time. This one is very Inner Circle Heavy, really giving you a glimpse at what I think they could've been, but I promise we'll return to our friends at the Mutant Underground soon.  
> Thank you all for your love and support!


	3. Chapter 3

_There were sirens. So many sirens, and loud voices, and dogs barking, and so much fear it was practically tangible._

_A girl - two girls - children, screaming. So many screams. Parents on the ground, shot dead - the smell of bodies -_

John was dizzy. When Reed had called to alert them of the Sentinel Services raid in progress at the apartment complex, he hadn’t known what to expect. Of course it would be awful. But what flavor of hell was always a mystery. 

They’d been cracking down more and more lately; this was the third raid this week. Sentinel Services had been getting more brutal in the wake of what some were calling “the second 7/15.” 

Atlanta. 

It was, of course, only a conspiracy theory. The government had made sure of that. But corners of the internet whispered about the shimmering tower of mutant light and the eerily empty space left behind it after. There were pictures that quickly got pulled down off the web, places where rubble should be, some remains of the building which - according to public record that had _also_ disappeared - had stood there for years before. Talk of the government’s incompetence and covering up of deadly mutant activity abounded. Then the Hellfire Club - or Inner Circle or whatever they were calling themselves - started creating their own mayhem.

Sentinel Services, not wanting to seem weak, stepped up their game. Their deadly, deadly game.

“How bad is it?” Marcos had asked before they rolled out. 

“As bad as it gets,” had been John’s reply, but it was still quite the shock to the system to actually _experience_ all of the sensations of the most recent raid. 

He could hear the screams as if they were still happening, see the guns leveled without regard for whether the targets were mutant or human, guilty or innocent. 

_Gunshots, gunshots, so many gunshots...worse than being deployed...these were homes…_

He shook his head. This wasn’t what he was here for.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, drawing his consciousness back towards the present, and then into the shallow past. He traced footfalls with his mind until he grabbed a trail, then beckoned for Marcos to get back in the car. 

John could feel Marcos’ heartbeat as if it were a part of him. In a way, it was. The two of them pounded in unison, hearts in ribs then feet on pavement as they made it to an abandoned warehouse near the southern side of the complex.

“In here.” John motioned to a beat-up brown door. He could hear voices behind it, scuffling feet - three people, he thought. “I’ll call Clarice.”

While Marcos calmed down the panicked mutants, John conveyed the message to Clarice, who was currently located on the other side of the complex. “There were some mutants who escaped via the storm drain.”

“On it,” came her brisk reply. Then the call cut. 

Something about her voice immediately calmed his spirit, no matter what the situation was. He offered a tiny smile to the sky for his girl. 

And then the moment was over and Marcos was hustling rescued mutants into the car. “Time to go,” he declared, swinging into the driver’s seat. John wasn’t far behind him.

They just had to get to the clinic. Then all of this would be over and everyone would be safe. At least til the next raid. 

* * *

“Hurry, hurry, let’s go!” Lauren hustled everyone through the portal in the side of the storm drain, forehead beaded with sweat. She had a massive air shield against the side of the door that Sentinel Services was trying to bust through. Clarice could relate, because her own body was definitely damp as she kept the portal open as wide and long as possible.

As the last person came through, a girl about Lauren’s age, Clarice saw the shield shuddering. “Lauren, come on!” she demanded, jaw clenched. The portal fluctuated and gunshots bounced off the shimmering tessellations by the door. They couldn’t keep this up much longer, and neither of them were bulletproof.

Lauren dropped the shield and dashed through the portal, panting. She seemed to trip - over what, Clarice wasn’t sure - and fall to the ground, halfway between gasping and coughing. 

The portal closed with a hiss. “Whoa there, Sunshine, you good?” Clarice asked, helping her up. 

“Yeah,” Lauren wheezed unconvincingly. “I’m fine.” Even as she said it, she leaned heavily against Clarice.

“Excuse me,” the teenage girl said softly, and Clarice got a good look at her for the first time. She was the youngest they'd recovered by far and bore no resemblance to anyone else. “Excuse me, have you seen my little sister?”

Clarice’s heart clenched and Lauren grew pale. 

“What’s your name? And what’s her name?” Clarice asked, keeping her tone even.

“I’m Cristina. Her name is Jazmine.” She gestured with her hand. “She’s about this tall, she’s got curly brown hair, and her face…” Cristina trailed off, gesturing helplessly. “We got separated after our parents - after everything.” She choked back a panicked sob. “Please, she’s my sister, I _have_ to find her.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Clarice began, holding up her hands placatingly. “But we’re going to a clinic where my friends will be bringing other survivors. We’ll look for her there, okay?”

Cristina nodded once and her mouth slammed shut. Unsatisfied but rushed, Clarice hustled all the survivors into the car, helping Lauren into the front seat. She drove as quickly as she dared, trying to ignore the way Lauren was clenching and unclenching her fists. Clarice could feel the air condensing and shifting around her co-pilot’s body, moving in rhythm with the girl’s stressed breathing. Every once in awhile Lauren would sneak a look over her shoulder at Cristina in the backseat, open her mouth like she was about to say something, then slam it shut again. 

All Cristina had done since the rescued her from the storm drain was begged for her younger sister and then fallen completely, eerily silent. Now she was staring pensively out the car window, holding her wounded hand close to her chest and refusing to engage with any of the other mutants in the car.

It hit a little a close to home for Clarice, brought back memories of lost foster siblings, but it must have been _excruciating_ for Lauren.

“ _Stop it,_ ” Lauren whispered emphatically under her breath, her eyes screwed shut. It didn’t seem to be directed at Clarice so she elected to continue driving and let Lauren deal with her powers. 

After a little while, she popped one eye open. “Can you go any faster?” she asked Clarice through gritted teeth.

“Not with five mutants in the backseat I can’t,” Clarice replied. “Deep breaths, kid. You’re okay. Everything is okay.” Tentatively, she reached out with her right hand to squeeze Lauren’s shoulder, startling only slightly as she hit what felt like invisible jelly. Something shimmered in the light, but Clarice refused to look at it. 

She drew her hand back and focused on the road. No time to get distracted now. But that was...definitely something to talk about later.

They pulled into the clinic parking lot. Lauren didn’t move to get out of the car, so Clarice took control, hustling everyone into the clinic where the rest of the survivors had been taken. 

“In here.” She guided Cristina into Caitlin’s office, figuring the mother would be able to help the girl so similar to her daughter. “This is Caitlin, Cristina. She’s our best nurse and she’s going to take care of you, okay?”

Cristina nodded numbly.

“Hi, Cristina!” Caitlin greeted in her warm, soothing voice. “Let’s see what’s going on with you, okay?” She gently directed Cristina to sit down on the medical bed.

Clarice whispered a ‘Thank you’ and walked back out into the hall, immediately colliding with a large body.

She looked up to see John smiling down at her, that dopey grin he always wore when he looked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. But this was business time. 

“Just the man I was looking for,” she declared, grabbing him by the hand and starting to drag him outside. “Lauren’s having a crisis and I don’t know what to do.”

“O-kay?” John hustled after her, still holding onto her hand. It was obvious he had no clue what she meant, but showing was going to be easier than telling, in this case. 

They burst out into the fading afternoon light, finding the car exactly as she’d left it, Lauren still inside. Clarice offered a small thanks to the universe. 

“Here.” She pulled open the door to reveal the teenager, curled into a ball a breathing shallowly, now covered in translucent bumps. “I don’t know what the hell this is.”

“Power flare-up. Happens to untrained teenagers and sometimes adults, like when you got sick.” John stepped a little closer to the car. “May I?”

Clarice scurried out of the way. “For sure.” She didn’t say the last part, _Just please fix this_ , out loud, but she was definitely thinking it and praying it and making those words a part of herself. She wasn’t a superstitious person, but if she just begged the universe enough…

John knelt down beside the car, reaching in the door to touch Lauren’s shoulder. The air bubbles resisted at first, but the calmed and parted enough to let his hand through.

“Lauren,” he began calmly. “It’s John. Can you hear me?”

She nodded once, teeth clenched. “I can hear, I just...I don’t know what’s going on.” She took another shallow breath. “It feels like I’m having a panic attack but…”

“Has this ever happened to you before?” John asked, reaching his other arm into the car and unbuckling her seatbelt. 

She shook her head, slumping a little more into her knees. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she repeated in a broken voice.

“Can you uncurl for me?” John asked gently, easing his arm under her knees and pulling her legs away from her chest. “Good, just like that.”

Clarice was absolutely awed by what she saw. She pulled her arms around herself, hugging tight, and resolved to ask John to teach her how to do...whatever this was.

“Do you remember when Clarice got sick?” John asked, keeping his hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “All those months ago, when you first arrived. How she kept opening portals at random? That’s what you’re doing, because you’re overwhelmed. But it’s alright, and you’re safe, and you don’t need to panic.”

Lauren nodded tightly, screwing her eyes shut again. Tears leaked out the side. “Okay,” she said slowly. “How do I make it stop?”

“Have you had panic attacks before?” John asked, and she nodded. “Okay, so you know that they don’t last forever. Take a couple deep breaths, cuz you’re hyperventilating.”

She nodded and followed along as John counted breaths for her, in for four and out for four, over and over until her shoulders loosened and her shields thinned.

“I’m so _tired_ ,” she whispered. “It’s all...so much.”

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you inside, alright?” John told her, waiting for her to nod before scooping her up in his arms like she weighed practically nothing. She slumped into his chest, pressing her face close, though Clarice wasn’t sure how intentional that was. 

“Clarice, can you get the door?” he asked, nodding to the car. She closed it for him and then rushed ahead to open the door to the clinic. 

The air around Lauren was pulsing weakly, but she seemed almost returned to normal. John took her to an unoccupied room and laid her down on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“I’m gonna get you a cup of water.” He patted her forehead. “Clarice will stay here and keep you company, alright?”

Lauren nodded, eyes half-shut. “Thank you,” she managed before he left the room. She turned to Clarice. “I’m really sorry.”

Clarice shook her head. “Hey, shit happens. You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright?” She shrugged. “I put holes in half the building when I got sick. Welcome to the club.”

Lauren offered a weak smile. “Kind of a shit club.”

“So are all the clubs I’m a part of,” Clarice laughed dryly. “But at least the company’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we get some of the found family feels that were so desperately lacking form the season.   
> One of my favorite things to think about is what happens when someone loses control of their powers? With Clarice, we saw it, and with Andy and Lorna, it's obvious. But what about Lauren? Or John? So I decided to explore that a little bit here, because I know how messy your brain can get when you're overwhelmed, and three raids in a week? That's _so_ overwhelming.  
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

John returned with water, but also Reed and Marcos.

“Lauren, honey, what’s wrong? What happened?” her father demanded, panicked. 

Lauren groaned, pushing herself up to sitting. “I’m fine, Dad, it’s no big deal.” She glared at John, betrayed. He’d been very helpful up until he decided it was a good idea to bring her dad. 

John held his hands up defensively, looking chagrined. “I didn’t - he was looking for you anyway, I told him you were fine.” John shrugged apologetically, awkwardly stepping backwards as Marcos and Reed came to fuss over her.

“Maaaaaarcos,” she whined. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I just want to know you’re not hurt,” he replied, taking her hands in his shoulders and shifting her around to look at her. “You’re precious to me.” In other circumstances, she would’ve found that sweet, but right now she was too grumpy to appreciate it.

She pushed them back gently and threw up an air shield between her and the offending adult men. “See? I’m fine,” she snapped, earning a guffaw from Clarice.

“She’s a fighter,” John mused with a smile. “Can’t keep her down for long.”

“Exactly.” Lauren nodded once, sharply, and dropped her shield. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find Cristina.” She slid off the bed fluidly, ducked around Marcos and her still-worried father, and headed out the door. 

The halls were full of clattering and shouting and rushing bodies, and Lauren had to continue to duck and weave around everyone, peering in doorways as she went. At the end of the hall she found her mother and Cristina, and she hurried in the door.

She had been running through options of things to say, but when she actually made eye contact with the other girl, her mouth got dry and she forgot how to speak. 

“Lauren!” her mother greeted, voice strained but filled with false cheer. “Just in time. Can you come over here and help please?” Lauren nodded, taking the alcohol-soaked cloth her mom pressed in her hand. “Can you clean out Cristina’s cut for me, please?”

“Um...yeah, sure.” Lauren swallowed thickly. She took Cristina’s hand carefully, face hot, and began gently dabbing at the wound. The girl hissed and a metal bin went flying through the air - Lauren ducked on instinct, and was suddenly very glad she had. 

Cristina looked at her guiltily. 

“It’s okay.” Lauren straightened up, smiling soothingly. “My powers do that too, sometimes. I once cocooned myself in a bunch of tiny air shields because I was so stressed.” She neglected to say that ‘once’ referred to twenty minutes ago.

“Sorry,” the other girl whispered. 

“Lauren, can you help stitch her up? I’m going to go help out elsewhere.” Her mother barely waited for a response before giving Lauren a thumbs up and ducking out the door.

Lauren did her best not to start at the _very pretty_ girl whose bloodied hand she was currently clutching and instead focused on the threaded needle from the table next to them. “Easy peasy,” she lied, forcing a smile. She’d done this a few times since going on the run, but that didn’t mean she liked it. 

With every stitch, the objects in the room rattled more and more. Lauren just made whatever soothing noises she could think of, trying to keep her new acquaintance calm and to not get hit in the head by a metal bin. The stitches were agonizingly slow and the sharp objects were frighteningly unstable, but finally, finally, Lauren finished her task.

“There you go. All better.” She dusted off her hands and hunted around for a bandage as the objects in the room calmed down.

Once the bandage was secure on Cristina’s hand, she looked up at Lauren. “Did you find my sister?” she asked. “Please, she’s only twelve. We got separated when our parents…” She choked up.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Lauren took Cristina’s uninjured hand in her own. “We’ll find her, alright? I get it. My brother is gone for now, too.”

‘For now,’ she said, like there was any hope of him coming back the way her mother hoped. He’d chosen his path, made his bed. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so different from the Andy she’d known, it was like looking at a stranger wearing a barely-remembered face.

Cristina made a wry sound. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” she asked, eyes watery. “She’s - she’s all I have.”

“We’ll find her,” Lauren repeated, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, let’s have a look around the clinic.” 

They left the room, wandering up and down the halls, and Lauren couldn’t help but notice Cristina was still holding her hand.

* * *

“Of course I’m coming.” Andy rolled his eyes at her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that a sixteen-year-old boy would be interested in the goings-on of birth proceedings. “You go, I go. We’re a package deal.”

Lorna rolled her eyes right back, but she appreciated his loyalty, if not his sass. Since sticking up for him in the war room, he’d become even more attached to her than he already had been, which suited her just fine. 

She’d always dreamed of having her baby surrounded by family, but if Andy was the only family she’d have, she guessed she could manage.

Her heart clenched painfully. Okay, so maybe not. But the kid was better than no family at all, and she still had at least a month and a half to figure shit out, if her math was right. Though it was kind of hard to know when you’d conceived a kid living on the run with limited access to contraceptives and the pregnancy news came from a lawyer. 

She shrugged. “Okay. If you’re bored, I warned you.”

“What’s more exciting than the miracle of life?” Andy snarked in a sing-song voice, earning a whole laugh from Lorna. 

“Andrew, Lorna. Are you ready to go?” Reeva’s voice made the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. It’s not the Lorna hated the woman; she’d simply done nothing to earn trust, and after trying to send Andy god-knows-where, Lorna was even more wary.

Lorna stepped forward in front of Andy almost subconsciously, planting her feet. “We are.”

“Then let’s depart.” Reeva turned on her heel and walked into the elevator. Lorna refused to rush to catch up with her, moving at a careful saunter, and Andy matched her pace; whether it was a deliberate act of rebellion like hers was or simply him mimicking her, she wasn’t sure, but she figured they looked more badass together.

The black SUVs were a little on-the-nose for Lorna's taste, but arguably much better than anything the Underground had possessed. These were new enough that the seats were still soft, and the tinted windows made Lorna feel safer. 

The building in front of them, on the other hand, looked downright spartan. “What is this?” she demanded. 

“A munitions factory,” Reeva replied. “All plastic and concrete.”

Lorna snorted. “I'm gonna give birth...in a munitions factory?” 

Just then, she felt excruciating pain and doubled over, screaming. It felt like nothing she'd ever experienced, radiating outward from her belly - and she'd been shot before. Dimly, she was aware of creaking and screeching around her as she fought to remain in control.

After the pain subsided, she stood up again. “Sorry. Baby's kicking,” she lied, making note of the new position of the SUV in front of them. She'd never been pregnant before but that had to be more than a kick, and this...couldn't be normal.

Reeva pursed her lips. “And that is why you're giving birth in a metal-less munitions factory. The acquisition has already taken place.”

“I don't get any say?” Lorna asked, more on principle than out of actual rejection.

“You do as long as you agree.” Reeva smiled sweetly. “Come inside, see what we've done with the place.”

The interior was incredibly sterile, stripped bare and lacking in decoration. Nothing particularly warm and fuzzy, not that it was necessary; but Lorna would have at least liked some comfort when she was going to be in excruciating pain.

In the center of a warehouse-like floor was a half-assembled boxy room made of plexiglass and plastic, if Lorna had to hazard a guess. There was very limited metal in the area, only the tools Mark needed as he dragged slats around to assemble things.

Lorna feld a shred of sympathy. You get super strength and suddenly you’re the manual labor guy. That shit was complicated and cumbersome. 

Mark met her eyes and gave her a grimace. He’d never been particularly friendly, but he seemed to be making something of an effort, she supposed.

“Do you like it?” Esme asked. _(Lorna could tell it was Esme because neither of the other two would care.)_ “I know it’s not much but I have plans to make it cozier once we’re done building.”

Reeva gave a tight smile. “Esme has been...quite insistent on the comfort aspect. But I told her that cleanliness was the most important thing; we want no unnecessary illnesses or risks.” Her smile morphed into a frown. “It’s bad enough we can’t give you pain medication.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lorna hadn’t really considered whether or not she’d wanted some, but now she was definitely thinking about it. 

Reeva shrugged. On anyone else it would seem helpless, but something about the woman prevented that, ending up looking simply resigned. “Your powers are too unstable right now. We have no idea what would happen if any sort of substance altered your state and lessened your grip on them.” She sighed. “I’m a reasonable woman, Lorna. I know how painful childbirth can be. If I didn’t consider the risk too great, I’d acquire you the finest drugs money could buy. I’m sorry.”

Lorna did not feel particularly reassured. “Ah.” She crossed her arms. “So yes plexiglass cage, yes weird munitions building, no metal, no drugs...what’s left?”

Reeva made a distasteful face. “Acquiring a doctor has been...difficult, to say the least.” She opted not to go into detail, even though Lorna was intensely curious about it. “I will make it work, don’t you worry, dear.”

Lorna may have doubted a lot, but she didn’t doubt that. Reeva Payge was the kind of woman who could make anything happen if she wanted it enough. The question was whether that was good for the world or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love Cristina and we love the Cristina/Lauren relationship, wow. Truly an underrated and underused character in Season 2, but she's here. We also love Lauren's sass and Andy's sass and the mirroring they have of each other. This was a fun chapter, and I hope you all enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

In spite of their rescue of ten mutants from the Liberty Park apartments, the mood in the drafty junkyard warehouse that’d become their base of operations was somber. It was the usual suspects, plus the new teenager - Cristina, Marcos thought her name was - and Reed was giving one of his rousing speeches, which Marcos typically loved, but right now he couldn’t focus on the words his partner was saying.

Cristina was sitting incredibly close to Lauren, having decided on her immediately and never left her side. It was cute, honestly, the way Lauren’s face lit up whenever Cristina was around; he hadn’t seen that look since they’d last seen Wes all those months ago. She deserved a little light-hearted happiness.

The thought of Wes reminded him of Roberto and Elena. He hoped they were doing okay. He ought to call and check up. He also ought to call Ramona and Rita; it’d been a couple weeks since he’d been able to check in. 

He held back a snort. The closest thing he had to a social life was checking up on fugitives he’d rescued and bickering with his significant others over breakfast. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Cristina raised her hand, an adorably juvenile move, and Marcos managed to refocus on the situation at hand. “You’ve said it’s okay if I stay until you find my sister,” she began. “But you never explained to me _how_ you plan to find her. DC is massive and it’s been 24 hours; she could be anywhere!”

“John’s an amazing tracker, sweetheart,” Caitlin explained with a reassuring smile and a pat on John’s shoulder, but Marcos knew the man was far less sure of his own skills. “If there’s a trail to pick up, he’ll find it.”

“I’ll do my absolute best,” John promised. “The trail’s a day old but that doesn’t mean that it’s gone.”

“In the meantime, you can stay with us,” Clarice suggested, and Cristina looked at her, panicked, leaning slightly closer to Lauren. “Or...not.” 

“I live alone and I’ve got an apartment adjacent to the Struckers,” Marcos volunteered. “You can stay with me and Lauren will be nothing but a shout away.”

Cristina ducked her head, embarrassed, but she didn’t try to protest or disagree. “Thank you.”

“Any other business to attend to?” Reed asked, seemingly ready to get back to work.

Marcos raised two fingers. “My _kid_?” he asked. “The baby’s gonna be born soon, and I refuse to miss the birth of my first child.” He frowned, knowing his next suggestion wasn’t going to go over well. “I found a hacker, Wire, who can help us find out where the Hellfire Club is based out of, and I can…” He trailed off.

John sighed, exasperated. “And you can what, Marcos? Stroll right on in and demand they return Lorna and Andy to us? That’ll go over _real_ well.”

“I told you, I’m done trying to get her back,” Marcos groused. No one seemed to believe that besides Lauren, who had actually _seen_ Lorna and Andy and who they’d become.

“I’m not,” Caitlin mumbled under her breath, and he reached out to give her hand a squeeze. He understood her, he really did, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to let Andy go until she really truly saw the kid’s new self.

Lauren shot her mother an exasperated glance that the woman luckily did not see, and Marcos mouthed ‘Be nice’ back at her. The whole situation was hard on her, but she had very little patience for her mother’s grief lately. Granted, Caitlin had very little attention for the one child still present.

It was messy.

“It’s too dangerous,” John replied. “Those hackers are known criminals. Hold off until we get more information on this Wire guy, and then we’ll see.”

Marcos sighed, but he nodded in agreement. John was right, of course. But that didn’t make the waiting less stressful. One quiet night just over six months ago, Marcos and Lorna had been lying together, trying to figure out the math for her due date. Their estimate landed just a couple weeks from now, and Marcos felt himself getting antsy.

He was not the kind of father that abandoned his children.

“What other options do we have?” Caitlin demanded. 

John blew out a steady breath. “The only thing keeping us safe is that the government thinks we died in Atlanta. That’s why your hair is dyed, why we all have fake IDs, why the landlord doesn’t know our real name. It’s not a good move to jeopardize that; we’ve got to keep a low profile.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Caitlin snapped. “I’m tired of being safe. I want my goddamn son back.” On the last word, her voice broke and tears filled her eyes.

“And I think we’re done here.” Marcos cut everything off quickly, pulling Caitlin against his chest. “Good meeting everyone, see you all later. Have fun.” He waved to disperse them and everyone shuffled out except Reed. “You too, man. I got this.” 

Reed shrugged. “Come find me when you’re ready,” he replied, and Marcos wasn’t sure if that was directed at him or Caitlin. Maybe both.

Caitlin shuddered in Marcos’ arms, letting out a couple of sobs. “I’m just - it’s - I’m so _angry_ , Marcos! They don’t understand. No one seems to understand except you.” She looked at him through frustrated tears. “And even you aren’t rushing to find them,” she accused, which hurt, but he understood her.

He kissed the top of her head, petting her hair. “I know, amor. I know. It’s the worst. But I told you how things went when we last saw them; if not for the baby, and Andy, I’d leave Lorna well enough alone.” He only added Andy to avoid upsetting Caitlin more, but he knew the kid wanted to be there just as much as Lorna did. He kissed the top of her head again. “We’ll find them, I promise you.” 

He let her cry herself out into his chest, and then helped wipe her face as best he could. “Come on. Let’s go find your husband.”

“He’s yours too, you know,” Caitlin replied with a watery laugh. 

Marcos shrugged, smiling. “That’s how I know it’s all gonna be ok.”

* * *

Reeva took a single deep breath and then knocked sharply on the door, just once. The strategy, the planning, the decision-making - that was the easy part of leadership. This? This was the part she found much more difficult.

“Come in,” came Lorna’s muffled voice.

Reeva pushed open the door and walked into a room flooded with light. All the curtains were drawn back and Lorna stood by the window, staring out pensively at the late afternoon skyline while she rested a single hand on her round belly. A couple of ball bearings floated above her other hand, dancing about the green light between her fingers.

Smoothing her hands across her dress and feeling uncharacteristically nervous, Reeva willed her features to pristine stillness. “Sit,” she suggested, patting the bed beside her.

Lorna raised her eyebrows, but she sat. The wariness with which she regarded Reeva made the woman feel...something like an odd mixture of pride and sadness. In another life, they may have been friends.

But this Reeva didn’t have friends.

“I’m worried about you, Lorna.” She chose each word carefully.

Lorna turned away, frowning. Closed body language. Already, Reeva had annoyed her. “I swear I’m fine,” she replied. “The car...I don’t know, it was an accident. I’ll get my powers under control.”

“It was a pre-term contraction,” Reeva replied matter-of-factly. Objective fact was easy. The emotions aspect...less so. “I had Sage do some encyclopedia searching, and that sounded most correct. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Oh.” Lorna dropped her shoulders and turned back towards Reeva. “What are you worried about, then?”

“You.” Reeva willed her hands to stillness, fighting off a hopeless gesture. She wished Benazir was here; Beni was always better at the emotional parts. They were the queens of the chessboard, back in the day. “Your emotional state seems...unbalanced.”

“Oh,” Lorna said again. She looked down at her lap. “I’m just...depressed, I guess. I miss Marcos.” She sighed. “I feel alone.”

Here was the moment where Reeva knew she was supposed to provide comfort, but as for how… She took a deep breath. “I sympathize.” Her tone was carefully mastered into confession. “The first thing I ever felt was alone. I grew up on the South Side of Chicago and I was _hated._ First for my poverty, then for the color of my skin, then for my sexuality, then for my powers. Everyone, everywhere finds something to hate about me.” She shrugged. She’d made her peace with it long ago.

Lorna snorted. “Is that supposed to cheer me up?”

“No. The part where we can _change_ all that together is what cheers you up.” Reeva almost smiled. In spite of her annoyance with Lorna’s refusal to fall into line, she had to admit that the woman’s spirit reminded her of her lost lover. “Everyone told me to wait, to do things their way, to strike. But I’m done listening. It’s our turn to lead.”

Lorna raised an eyebrow. “Inspiring,” she drawled. “What happened to those other people, then?”

Reeva stilled. “What?”

“The people who told you to wait.” Lorna stared Reeva down, but she refused to be intimidated, and she met the woman’s gaze. “There are rumors. There used to be other members of the Inner Circle; we met them. But I haven’t seen them around anywhere in awhile.”

Reeva didn’t see how an institution so small could have rumors, but she simply gave a delicate shrug. “We all make sacrifices.” Though her short-sighted compatriots had barely been a sacrifice.

“How much are you willing to sacrifice?” Lorna whispered, giving Reeva a reproachful look that she did not appreciate.

She set her mouth in a hard line. “Whatever it takes to keep my people safe.” She stood, dusting imaginary debris off her skirt. Ultimately, it didn't matter whether Lorna trusted her or realized what ‘my people’ meant; she was used to others looking at her with suspicion. They just needed to work together. “If you need me, you know where to find me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give Andrew his reading material.”

She turned on her heel and stode out the door, shutting it gently. She prayed that the interaction had gone better than she felt it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Reeva's Perspective? Something the show never gave us??? Wow. Also shoutout to Benazir making an appearance as more than just a two-minute backstory.  
> Also thought I'd throw in some poly emotional love and some angst because Caitlin needs both a hug and a reality check. Good thing she's got such strong help.  
> I love you all! Thanks for the support.


	6. Chapter 6

Andy stared at the pile of books on his bed. He’d thanked Reeva - he hoped it sounded more genuine than it felt - and then she’d left, leaving him to paw through the stack of books. 

Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ sat on top of the stack, well-worn and with a tattered spine. He was pretty sure Lauren had read that in English back when they’d still been going to school; he seemed to remember her coming home and bitching about how Machiavelli was a terrible person. He flipped it open to see ridiculous amounts of annotations in Reeva’s own no-nonsense script, and wondered where she got the patience; he didn’t even like annotating stuff he was forced to read for school.

Underneath that was _The Art of War_ by a guy named Sun Tzu, also covered in annotations but less; an old copy of _Apology_ of Socrates, which was a name Andy thought he recognized from class; and then something called _Democracy in America_ by an Alexis de Tocqueville. That book was ridiculously thick.

Andy groaned, throwing them back onto the bed. There were more books, but he didn’t bother to look at them just yet. How was any of this supposed to help him? Why did any of this _matter_? They were in the middle of a goddamn mutant revolution, and Reeva wanted him to read a bunch of books by old dead people.

He picked up the Machiavelli book again. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say this one was Reeva’s favorite. It also looked like the thinnest and easiest to get through. 

Hell, he might even like it. Lauren probably thought he was a terrible person right now, too, so maybe he and Machiavelli would have something in common.

He opened the book, stared at the first page, and shut the book, placing it back on the bed.

Fuck that.

Andy kicked himself up out of bed, enjoying the quick rush of air. One of these days he’d have to see if he could use his powers to move himself around. Lauren could probably do something like that, but she was the opposite of him. 

He hurried down the hall to Lorna’s room, hoping that she could cheer him up. Or at the very least, listen to him complain.

The door swung open before he could even knock. “You’ve got distinctive footsteps.” She offered him a tired smile. “What’s up, kid?”

He flopped dramatically down next to her on the bed. “Reeva gave me the books.”

“Yeah, she said she would.”

“They’re all very old and hard to read. It’s useless and stupid and unfair.” He huffed, blowing his floppy blonde hair out of his face. “I should be fighting, not reading books by dead people.”

“I know how you feel.” Lorna gave him a reassuring smile. “But it’s the price you pay for staying, I guess.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t make it suck less. What’d she give you?”

“Machiavelli,” he began, and she barked out a laugh.

“Seems about right.”

“Some old Greek shit, _The Art of War_...” He kicked his legs absently up at the ceiling.

“Shouldn’t you be studying, then?” she teased. Or at least he hoped she was teasing. “Instead of hanging out with me.”

“You’re more fun though,” he replied. “Besides, I thought of some more baby names to share.”

“Dear god, no.” Lorna laughed. “The last batch was bad enough. I mean, Butch? Cherry? What the hell, dude.”

“I’m incredibly creative,” Andy replied indignantly. “Those are epic names.” But he couldn’t help but smile.

“You can take care of my baby in other ways,” she replied, voice deadly serious. “If something goes wrong - keep my baby safe, Andy. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied awkwardly. The moment had gotten a little too real for him.

Her back was to him, which presented the perfect opportunity. He could lighten the mood a little bit. He fished a ball bearing out of his pocket - stolen from Lorna’s collection, of course - and aimed to throw it over her head. Before he could, though, it zipped straight out of his hand and crashed into a wall, leaving a small dent.

All the metal in the room began to vibrate, producing a sound that traveled straight into Andy’s spine. He sat bolt upright as the lights flickered out, leaving them illuminated by the dusk outside.

“Lorna, are you okay?” he demanded.

She doubled over, teeth gritted. “Get Reeva.” 

“What?”

She forced herself up to look directly into his eyes. “Get Reeva. The baby” - she grunted - “is coming.”

“Oh, holy shit.” 

* * *

“Cristina, honey. You’ve barely touched your food.” Caitlin peered at the girl, concerned. It was nice to have another person to mother. Made her feel useful.

The teenager pushed her plate away. “I’m not really hungry.” She sighed. “I just...can’t stop thinking about my sister. She’s all alone out there, and she’s...so young.”

Caitlin could relate. 

As if summoned by Cristina’s words, there came a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” Marcos stood from the table, peering through the peephole and then letting John in. “What’s the news?”

Cristina was up and out of her chair in a second, Lauren barely behind her. “Did you find her?”

Caitlin doubted it, or else a twelve-year-old would be trailing behind John. His somber face confirmed her worries.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. We found her trail and followed it, but...she got in a car and drove off and I lost it again. I’m not giving up,” he added hastily, “and there was no sign of a struggle, which means she’s likely with someone she trusts.”

Cristina’s face fell. “I understand,” she forced out, though it was the same way Lauren spoke when she did not, in fact, understand. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to reach out to our people, see whether anyone in the area picked her up. We’ll regroup and go from there.” John looked at the teens apologetically, then glanced up at Caitlin. They made awkward eye contact and she tried to look supportive, but she understood the teens’ frustration.

John hadn’t brought her Andy, either.

It was unfair to hold that against him, she knew. But it didn’t stop the pain of missing her son, and he was supposed to be the best tracker, yet he couldn’t find one teenage boy. Or maybe he could, and he just wasn’t telling her, which was honestly an even worse thought.

Reed reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised her, but he didn’t know that. None of them knew that.

“I’ll let you all get back to dinner.” John awkwardly excused himself, and Marcos, Lauren, and Cristina shuffled back to the table, the mood even more somber. 

Caitlin gazed sympathetically at Cristina. “It’s okay,” she offered. “My son is missing too. But we’re gonna find him and bring him home, same as your sister.”

Lauren glared at her. “ _Mom_ ,” she said sharply.

Caitlin bristled. She didn’t understand why Lauren acted like this all the damn time, like she didn’t care about Andy coming home...like she didn’t care about the wholeness of their family. “What? It’s the truth,” she snapped back.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Listen, I volunteer at a shelter.” She turned to Cristina. “You can come with me tomorrow. We can ask around and see if anyone has seen your sister.”

Cristina offered a thin smile. “Thanks,” she said, and this one sounded a lot more genuine than the one she’d offered John.

“Have you considered getting a job around here, Lauren?” Reed asked, taking a spoonful of peas. He seemed to be the only one who could actually eat right now. “Expand your circle, settle in?”

Caitlin shot him a warning glance. “Some of the best info we’ve got has come from the shelter.”

Reed looked at back at her reproachfully. “Her whole life can’t just be looking for her brother, Cait. She’s her own person. We have to take care of the child in front of us.”

“I’m not a child,” Lauren snapped. “It’s _fine,_ I like the shelter and I’m not just there for Andy, anyway. I’m doing good work. I help people.” She stared accusingly at Caitlin, who bristled again. Reed was the one who’d suggested she leave - why was she targeting her mother with her ire?

“Hey, guys?” Marcos cut in. “Maybe...we shouldn’t do this in front of our guest?” He glanced at Cristina and Caitlin realized with a twinge he was right.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” she forced a laugh. “This isn’t yours to worry about, dear.”

“It’s fine, I’m actually...really tired,” Cristina offered. “I’m gonna...go to bed.” She glanced at Marcos. 

“Door’s still unlocked. Take the bedroom. What’s mine is yours, kid, if you want food or pajamas or anything.” He patted her on the shoulder. 

In some ways, Marcos seemed a better parent than she was, Caitlin thought guiltily. And here she’d been doing it for 18 years.

Cristina bid them all good night, leaving a full plate at the table. Caitlin moved to put it in the fridge.

“Why do you do this?” Lauren asked from behind her in a choked-up tone. “Why do you _always_ do this, Mom?”

Caitlin turned around to see her daughter’s eyes glimmering with tears she couldn’t comprehend. “Do what?” she demanded.

“Act like he’s coming back!” Lauren let out a tiny sob. “Act like he didn’t leave on his own. Act like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.”

“He’s a child,” Caitlin protested. “They took my son away from me. How can I even try to accept he won’t come back?”

“They didn’t take him, he _left_ ,” Lauren spat. “He’s a teenager. Yeah, he’s not an adult, but he has _agency_ , Mom. We both do.” She glared, crossing her arms. She shrugged off her dad’s attempt at a comforting hand and Reed went very, very still. 

“That’s your brother.” Caitlin crossed her arms right back, caught somewhere between regret and anger. 

“He knew what he was getting himself into and he _left_ us. He wasn’t brainwashed, he was radicalized.” Lauren wiped at her face with her palms. “You don’t think it bugs me that my _baby brother_ is a _terrorist_ , Mom? But the Inner Circle didn’t plant anything that wasn’t already there.” She sniffled. “I saw him in Atlanta with Marcos. You didn’t. I know Andy better than anyone does. And that’s how I know that he doesn’t want to come back.” She stood up. “Marcos, I’m going to stay at your place tonight, okay?”

He nodded. “Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Lauren-” Caitlin sputtered, feeling a million things at once. She felt her own eyes welling up. Lauren simply stalked past her out the door.

“Shh.” Marcos stood and pulled her into a hug. “We’re done here, okay? We’re done with this. She’s said her piece, you can tell Reed and me whatever you have to say, and we’ll listen.” They both glanced towards the table towards where he sat, fists clenched, pale and breathing heavy. “Hey man, you good?”

“Yeah!” he replied, but Caitlin could tell he was lying. There was no one she knew better than her own husband. “Guess it’s a good thing we have two apartments, huh?” he joked weakly, standing to join the hug. “Let’s just...all go to bed.”

“Do you want me to stay or go?” Marcos asked. 

Caitlin said “Stay” at the same time Reed said “Go” and they looked at each other. She swallowed. “I guess we need to have a conversation about this,” she told Marcos. “We’ll come get you when we’re ready.”

He nodded, kissing them both, and left.

Reed sat down heavily. “You can’t do this, Cait.”

“Oh, god, you too?” She threw her hands into the air. “I swear to god, Marcos is the only one who understands me.”

“I understand you plenty,” Reed shot back. “I miss our son every damn day. But the pressure you put on Lauren - it’s like she doesn’t matter as much to you.”

“Well, she’s always been your favorite,” Caitlin snapped, feeling only a little guilty at his look of pain. “Maybe you’re projecting because Andy doesn’t matter to you.”

He sighed, rubbing his hands across his face. He refused to rise to her bait. A month ago, he would’ve but now...now he just seemed tired. Defeated. “I’m not projecting.” He sighed again. “She’s told me she feels like this.”

It was like someone pushed the off button on her maternal rage. “Oh. Why didn’t she…?”

“Caitlin, I love you.” Reed gestured at the chair next to him. “So let’s talk.”

* * *

Normally, Esme had to make an effort to read people’s thoughts and emotions. Lorna’s, however, were so damn loud that she couldn’t block them out. 

“Why are you afraid?” Phoebe hissed. 

“We’re not afraid,” Sophie added. “And we don’t like feeling your fear.”

“I’m sorry,” Esme whispered back guiltily. “I’m just - I’m worried about Lorna.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sophie replied, trying to force some of her confidence into the channel between them, but Lorna’s emotions kept overpowering it. Esme wanted to get out of this building.

Phoebe groaned. “Why can we feel her so much?” she complained. “We’ve never felt anything like this before.”

It was Esme’s fault. She knew it was. It was because she cared about Lorna in a way she’d never cared about anyone, and so now her powers were out of whack because of Lorna’s pain.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” Sophie asked, seemingly unbothered. “I’ve never been pregnant.”

Esme had a brief flash of fear over what it would be like if one of them got pregnant. She definitely felt way too young to be pregnant, and she didn’t even know if that was biologically possible. 

Phoebe glared at her again. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Emotional regulation had never been something she’d had to worry about before. She’d never really...had emotions, before this point. The three of them had shared emotions, but it’s a lot easier when it’s one emotion spread through three bodies. Nowadays, they felt discordant all the time.

“ _Girls._ ” Reeva’s sharp tone made her flinch. “Am I interrupting something?” Her face was drawn tight and Esme didn’t have to make any effort to know she was stressed. 

“Sorry,” she apologized for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

“So what are we going to do?” Andy demanded, squeezing Lorna’s hand. He’d managed to get her into their sitting room, but they hadn’t migrated any farther than that. Sage had her arms crossed and her feet tapping as she stood by in case they needed facts or statistics or practical knowledge.

“I don’t _know_ , Andrew,” Reeva snapped. “I haven’t found a suitable doctor yet and the baby isn’t due for another month. I thought I had time.”

Andy glanced at Esme, looking for something she didn’t know how to give him, and then glanced back to Lorna. “I know someone who could help,” he offered tentatively.

“Caitlin Strucker,” Lorna gasped out, not bothering to let him finish. “Caitlin can deliver my baby, and I’d trust her with my life. And I am _not_ having this baby without Marcos.”

Esme felt the tiniest spark of...jealousy?

Reeva’s frown deepened. “Hm.” She glanced up at the sky, lips moving, and Esme hazarded a single reach towards her consciousness, skimming a few emotions off the top. Frustration was the biggest one, at the world, at herself, at everything. Distaste for this new plan. Maybe even fear, but Esme couldn’t really trace who that one originated from.

“Fine.” Reeva sighed. “Let the record show I do not like this, but I consider it our best option.” She clapped her hands. “Esme, Sophie, Phoebe. You go acquire Strucker and Diaz by whatever means necessary. Sage, Mark, you’re with me. We’ll reconvene at the safehouse with Lorna as _quickly_ as possible.” She glared at Esme and her sisters specifically. “No distractions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Esme mumbled, while her sisters answered both louder and more sarcastically. 

Phoebe drove. She always drove. It was one of the few distinguishing traits about them all. They all stood differently, Phoebe liked to drive while Esme preferred shotgun, Sophie drank green tea and Phoebe preferred coffee. Phoebe was the most aggressive, Sophie was the intellectualizer, Esme was...something.

“That’s not the only way we’re different,” Phoebe snarked.

Sophie nodded, which was rough. Esme hated when the two of them ganged up on her. “Yeah, what happened to you? You’ve felt different ever since we saw you again at Trask.” She blinked thoughtfully. “It’s like...before it was you-me-Phoebe, all one thing, but now it’s me-Phoebe and you’re just connected by a string.”

“It wasn’t always like that.” Esme winced as they shared a collective thought of their fallen sisters.

“Before we were five, then we were three, and now somehow we’re two-and-one, but you’re still alive, so explain that one,” Phoebe snapped. “You’ve gone soft.”

“She’s always been a little soft,” Sophie replied. “You’re the fighter, I’m the brains, Esme’s the heart. And Celeste was our glue and Mindee our innovator. We’ve always been at least a little different.”

Phoebe shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road. “You can’t argue that she’s even more different now. It’s like she doesn’t even want to be a part of us.”

“That’s not true!” Esme protested, though she wasn’t sure. Her time in the Mutant Underground _had_ changed her, and she didn’t really know what it was she wanted.

Phoebe glanced at her for a second, just long enough to glare. “Then why do you spend more time with Lorna and Andy than with us? And why do you try to keep us out of your head?”

Esme had no good answers, so she just bit her lip instead.

They pulled up in front of a cheap looking apartment building. The doors didn’t even have good locks, and something about the walls made Esme itchy. Her sisters seemed to share her disgust. She thanked her lucky stars the Inner Circle had...more reasonable accommodations.

Everyone in the building had a particular sort of sound to their mind, and Esme sorted through them all haphazardly, trying to find the ones she searched for. She found the Strucker girl first, almost by accident, sleeping curled around some other mind Esme had never encountered before. 

She shook her head. That wasn’t right.

“Esme, dear, you’re getting distracted, which distracts _us_ ,” Sophie chastised. 

“Sorry,” she replied, growing to hate the weight of that word on her tongue. Why couldn’t she do anything right today?

“Found them. The roof.” Sophie gestured upwards with her chin, and Esme redirected her focus.

She could hear them, the Strucker mom and Marcos, talking on the roof. Or more accurately, she could hear their thoughts - she had no idea which ones were allowed to be spoken and which were kept locked inside. 

The anger inside the Strucker mom made her dizzy. There was so much pain.

“Esme. Knock it off,” Phoebe snapped. “I swear, you used to be better at this.”

Esme refused to apologize for that one. They all had empathy, and it wasn’t her fault the others didn’t feel its effects. “Let’s go upstairs. Time is of the essence,” Esme snapped right back. 

They took four flights of stairs and Esme wondered idly why her sisters always insisted on heels. Flats would be more sensible for things like this. 

“You liked them too, once upon a time,” Phoebe reminded her. “Before you became basic.”

Esme ignored the jab and pushed open the door just in time to hear Caitlin say, “I want to contact Wire.” She and Marcos were standing incredibly close, almost touching, and Esme coughed slightly.

Intimacy was the most uncomfortable emotion to feel. 

“Hello.” The three sisters spoke in unison and it felt...right. As if they were how they used to be. Esme could melt into it for a little while.

Marcos and Caitlin whipped around, immediately wary. Marcos raised his hands, already glowing, and Caitlin leveled her gun, trying to decide which sister to aim at. 

“I wouldn’t,” Sophie suggested. 

“You’re going to want to hear what we have to say,” Phoebe added smugly.

“It’s about Lorna,” Esme finished, feeling a sort of grim satisfaction as the two dropped their guard. “Lorna and the baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come to you with another update on 7/15. It's a massive undertaking, a daunting project, and I'm doing my best what with the realities of life. I appreciate your patience and hope you all enjoyed this next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Lorna was shouting when they entered the room. One of the sisters winced. His brain wanted it to be Esme, but Marcos tried to force himself not to care regardless. She wasn’t his friend. All the time she’d been at the Mutant Underground was a lie. And she’d _tased_ him, for God’s sakes. 

But he still felt a twinge of sympathy. He didn’t like the noise either, though he was more concerned about the woman making the noise. He had no idea what Esme’s priorities were.

A woman stood with her back to them, arms crossed, shoulders tight. Her hair was done up in an elaborate braid.

“Who's that?” Marcos asked, though he had an inkling. Caitlin kept inching closer and closer to him.

The Sisters didn't bother to answer, just threw open the door to a small plastic enclosure.

The woman spared them a single glance. “Oh good, you're here. Fix this.”

The limited intel they'd gathered on the Hellfire Club - now Inner Circle, he guessed - had mentioned exactly one black woman in their ranks: Reeva Payge.

“Reeva, is it? Hi.” He offered her a greeting with no warmth. 

“Now is not the time,” she ground out. “Deliver the goddamn child.”

“Caitlin, Marcos, thank god,” Lorna gasped out. Andy stood next to her, squeezing her hand, and Marcos couldn’t decide who looked paler. 

Caitlin pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes welling with tears. “Andy?” she asked, as though there was anyone else it could be. 

“Hi.” The kid was awkward as ever. “Please help.”

“Ms. Strucker, there will be time to connect with your son after the baby has been brought into this world,” Reeva snapped. “You are here because Lorna trusts you to deliver the child. So I ask you to _deliver the child_.” She looked like she had a headache. Marcos honestly couldn’t blame her.

He turned to look at Caitlin just in time to see a mask crash over her features, crisp and professional. “Alright then. What are my supplies?”

“Anything you want that isn’t made of metal,” Reeva replied. “If it’s not in the room, it can be, just say the word.”

Marcos, feeling both ignored and unsure of his role in the whole scenario, went to stand next to Lorna. She took his other hand and squeezed deathly tight and he exhaled a small sigh of relief. However weird things were between them, however they’d left things last, at least she still wanted him here. At least she still cared.

It was strange to watch Caitlin work. It’s not like Marcos had never seen her in crisis-management mode, but she didn’t spare a single look at him or her son. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d been ready to get in touch with a dangerous criminal just to get this teenage boy back. 

“I’m glad you came,” Lorna whispered through gritted teeth. “I didn’t - I didn’t know if she’d call you.” She grunted. “And...I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“Of course I would come.” He kissed her forehead, as though they were still what they’d used to be. “I’d go to the ends of the earth for our child. And for you.”

She gave a pained chuckle. “Still haven’t given up on me, huh?” she snarked, then sucked in a breath. “Ugh, Caitlin, what the _fuck_ is going on down there?”

“You’re dilating,” Caitlin reported, “but not quite enough. Just relax, your body knows what to do. It’s hardwired in.”

“Relax.” Lorna laughed dryly. “In a _munitions_ facility?” She leaned back. “Is that even possible?”

“Is that what this used to be?” Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “You sure know how to make things cozy.” The last part was directed at Reeva, and Lorna grinned.

“You've got a type,” she whispered to Marcos.

“Shut up,” he whispered back.

“Ew,” Andy whispered at them both, giving a look of distaste.

Lorna glanced at Andy, then back at Marcos. “Is she good in bed?” she whispered, grinning mischievously. 

Marcos choked. “Oh my god!” Out of all the questions he’d expected Lorna to ask upon their reunion, this was not one.

“ _Ew!_ ” Andy gagged. “Don’t answer that!” He glared at Marcos incredibly fiercely.

Marcos shook his head sharply. “Wasn’t going to!” Last thing he wanted was to talk about whether or not and how much he was sleeping with the kid’s parents. That was a conversation reserved for eternal damnation.

“Sorry, it was for the kid’s benefit.” Lorna giggled, looking a little more relaxed. Well, if it made her feel better to start shit, he supposed he couldn’t complain too much. She was the one doing all the hard work.

“Is everything _quite_ alright over there?” Reeva crossed her arms and glared at them from the foot of the makeshift bed. Andy shot her a guilty look.

Caitlin shrugged. “Whatever you’re doing is working, so keep it up, I guess.”

Marcos wondered idly how she’d feel if she knew she’d just encouraged Lorna to keep making jokes about their sex life and embarrassing the kid.

“You’re close,” Caitlin informed Lorna. “Few more deep breaths, dear.”

“Can we help?” one of the Frosts asked, drawing glares from the other two. Marcos didn’t think he was supposed to notice that, but he did.“What? Our powers could be useful here.”

“No,” Lorna snapped, a look of fear crossing her face. “Stay out of my head.”

“Shh, shh,” Marcos quieted, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s fine. You’re fine.” 

The other sisters rolled their eyes. “Just saying,” a second snarked, different from the one who’d spoken up at first, even though she’d initially seemed annoyed. Marcos did not understand those women.

Caitlin frowned. “C’mon, Lorna, you’re almost there.” She glanced up, acknowledging Andy for the first time. “Andy, do the - the beats thing.”

“What?” His eyebrows creased.

She waved her left hand, keeping the other on Lorna’s leg. “The thing you do with your voice, you sound like a drum. I don’t know, maybe it’ll calm her down.” Caitlin shrugged helplessly. “It helped the kids in the Underground.”

Andy glanced at Marcos once and they shared a look of confusion before the kid shrugged and began beatboxing. He looked incredibly self-conscious, but Marcos leaned over and whispered, “Hey, it’s cool. Just focus on Lorna, man, you’re doing it for her.”

Andy looked at him with something akin to gratitude for the first time in many months, and his beats became more self assured. Every once in awhile he’d throw in something dorky like “It’s the baby song!” and “You’re gonna be a cool mom!”, and Marcos could see the tension drain from Lorna’s face as she began to chuckle.

“Theeeeere we go.” Caitlin sighed in relief. “Okay, Lorna, it’s time to start pushing. Big push.”

And then the screaming got worse. Lorna clutched Marcos’ hand so tight he thought it might fall off, and probably did the same to Andy. To his credit, the kid kept beatboxing, even as the lights overhead flickered violently.

“I see a head,” Caitlin declared. “C’mon, Lorna, honey, you’re so close. You’re almost there.” She was nearly halfway under the blanket covering Lorna’s legs, and Marcos had to hand it to her. She seemed very competent and sure of herself, in spite of the complete and total preposterousness of the whole damn situation. 

Lorna grunted. “Tell Marcos...about the baby names,” she suggested to Andy, gripping their hands. “He’ll think it’s funny.”

Andy glanced at him awkwardly. “Um.” He coughed. “Before I do, let me start with Lorna already told me they were awful.”

“Duly noted.” Marcos raised an eyebrow. 

Lorna clearly couldn’t hold back anymore. “He suggested Cherry. Cherry! C’mon.”

“It is a cool name,” Andy said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I gave her options. I also said Crystal, Melody, Bolt, or Rocky. Or Ginger.”

Marcos laughed. “I have never met a latino named Ginger and my child will not be the first.” He pushed his free hand over his mouth, trying to muffle himself. “She’s right though, those are terrible.”

“Well, she suggested Dawn!” Andy protested. 

Marcos wheeled around on her. “Absolutely not.”

“Hey, why?” Lorna demanded. “I thought it was cute.”

“Dawn Diaz Dane? Come on, Lorna, that’s a ridiculous amount of one-syllable D sounds.” He shook his head. “I will not let you do that to our child.”

“I mean Aurora is still my first choice,” she confessed. “But I wasn’t sure...after everything…” She looked at him guiltily. As if anything that happened could’ve changed his feelings.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Aurora it is. Rory for short.”

“Gross, no, I told you I hate that!” But she was laughing, laughing through the pain of labor, and Marcos thought that was a goddamn miracle.

“One more big push, Lorna!” Caitlin demanded. “You can argue about names once the baby’s actually out.”

Lorna rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” she ground out. And then she screamed, and all the light bulbs shattered, and Caitlin exhaled, and the baby screamed, and it was done.

“Towel,” Caitlin demanded of the Frost sisters, proceeding to wipe down the small, screaming blob that Marcos knew was his child. It had been so easy to forget Reeva and the Frosts while he was talking and laughing with Lorna and Andy, but now their presence was deeply obtrusive.

He coughed awkwardly, still holding Lorna’s hand. 

“Sharp thing for cutting.” Reeva handed something plastic to Caitlin - god knows what - and she severed the baby’s cord.

“Your daughter,” Caitlin proclaimed, handing the child swaddled in a towel to Lorna. Both women were glowing. “Now, we wait for the placenta.”

“The what now?” Andy demanded. “You mean it’s not just a baby?”

Caitlin sighed. “Why did I let your father give you the talk?” she asked, staring at the dark ceiling. Marcos noticed the lights out through the rest of the city, too, through the one window high up. That’d be something to deal with tomorrow. 

“Hola, Aurora,” he greeted, reaching out to pat her head. “I’m your dad,” he continued in Spanish, then proceeded to babble as much wholesome nonsense at her as he could manage.

Caitlin cleaned her hands on another towel and came to stand beside them, peering down at the baby. She was just close enough to Marcos to look suspicious but still awkwardly far, like she didn’t know how to navigate this space, and she kept casting nervous glances at the Frosts and Reeva. 

He hadn’t thought about how he would do this, protect the women he loved from those he didn’t stop. Still, Marcos made a great effort, angling his body protectively in front of his newborn and the two women by his side.

Lorna looked at Caitlin, absolutely beaming. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for taking care of my family.” She looked down at Aurora, then up at Marcos. God, he was still so in love with her, even after everything.

Caitlin glanced over at Andy, an unreadable look on her face. “Thank you for taking care of mine,” she replied, sagging slightly into Marcos’ side. He put an arm around her. He wasn’t sure quite what she was feeling right now - probably a lot of things - but she seemed better.

But also worse, in some ways, what with the glances she kept casting at her son. It was like with Lauren, but...this was his mother, not sister. Marcos gave her a comforting squeeze. 

Andy rummaged in his pocket. “I made this,” he told Lorna, pulling out a slightly holey knit green hat. “To keep her head warm.” He placed it very carefully over Aurora’s skull. 

Caitlin pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes welling up. 

Reeva clapped her hands once. “Are we feeling like we can move?” she asked, as though she was addressing the whole group as opposed to just Lorna.

Caitlin furrowed her brow. “She just gave birth. She needs to rest. And I - I need to monitor her for a little while - make sure everything is okay -” She cast panicked glances at Lorna and Andy, unwilling to leave. Marcos knew she wanted more time with her son.

Reeva shrugged. “She’ll be more comfortable in her own room. Can you get her ready and do your checkup back there?” 

Caitlin struggled, glancing around again, and then threw her hands up. “I guess…” 

“Excellent. Andrew, assist your mother. Marcos, come here.” Reeva exited the plexiglass room and he followed after her, annoyed at being ordered around. He spared one last look to see Caitlin and Andy embracing, which made him smile.

Off to the side, Marcos leaned against the concrete wall while Reeva faced him with stick straight posture, arms crossed. “How much do you intend to see your child?” she demanded.

Marcos was taken aback. “I - as much as possible - I’ll join you,” he blurted out, unsure where it came from. “If that’s what you want.” He didn’t know if he would, didn’t know if he could. He thought of Reed and Caitlin’s warm bed, but then the face of his daughter, and then his own father, who’d kicked him onto the streets far too young. 

Reeva laughed, and it almost seemed genuine. “You wouldn’t. You couldn’t cut it here. It’s one thing to take and shape Magneto’s daughter and a Von Strucker; they’re worth it. But you’re no symbol, and you’re not cut out for this work. Stick with your Mutant Underground.” 

“Please.” His voice almost broke. “I don’t want my child to grow up without me.”

She scoffed. “I’m not a _monster_ , Marcos.” She pulled a small square of plastic out of some unseen pocket and pressed it into his palm. “This is a keycard to our building. I will decide when it is acceptable for you to come visit. If you try the card and it doesn’t work, come back later. If you give this card to anyone or tell them where our hideout is - or even lose the card - I will not hesitate to eliminate you.” She crossed her arms. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He wanted to be sarcastic and snappy, but it just wasn’t there. Marcos glanced down at the card, trying not to betray his awe.

“You may return with us this evening, and then you have until the morning. Then you are gone, understand me?” Reeva stared him down. “I want your child to have a good life, but I will not sacrifice my operations for her.”

Marcos nodded, swallowing thickly. He tucked the card into the his pocket and reached out to shake Reeva’s hand. Shockingly, she obliged. 

“Now come on,” she declared. “It’s time to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my disappearance, life is a mess. I'm still working on this slowly but surely, it's not dead and I'm not giving up just yet. I love y'all dearly and I hope this chapter keeps you going.


	8. Chapter 8

When the lights went out all at once across the city, John feared the worst. It was the noise that woke him up, really, the sound of snapping power lines and electrical explosions in the distance. He sat bolt upright in bed.

Clarice, suddenly exposed to the elements by his jerky blanket-stealing movement, blinked blearily and looked up at him. “You good there, soldier?” she asked, pulling the sheets back over her body. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” he replied. “The lights...they’re all out.”

What an observation. “It’s night time.” Clarice rubbed at her eyes. “Isn’t that normal?”

“Not every single light in the damn city.” He pushed himself out of bed and peered out the window. “Look, it’s like rural Georgia out here.” 

Clarice gave a very theatrical groan, pushing herself out of bed and stretching. The t-shirt she slept in rode up and she shivered, and John thought she maybe should have worn pajama pants. But they had an electric heater that usually kept them plenty warm. Though it seemed to not be running right now.

“This better be good, Proudstar; it’s an ungodly hour.” But when she looked out the window, she was instantly more alert. “Oh damn, you’re right.”

“Told you,” he snarked, though it was loving. Always loving.

She groaned and stretched again. “Well, excuse me, soldier. Forgive my skepticism that ‘lights out at night’ is worth waking up for.” She yawned. “What do you think it is?”

“Nothing good,” he replied, not bothering to enumerate on any of the possibilities his mind came up with.

Unfortunately, Clarice seized on his least favorite, anyway. “Think it’s Lorna?” she asked. “Another attack by the Inner Circle?”

He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, but that _was_ what he thought. “I’m gonna call Evangeline.”

“Dragon lady? The one who recruited you and chained you up and shit?” Clarice raised her eyebrow. “And what do you think that’ll help?”

“I know you have a...dim opinion of her methods, but in her defense, it worked.” John kissed Clarice. “I still appreciate the knowledge that you’re unlikely to chain me to a bed against my will.” It was heartening, really. He’d never had someone ready to defend and protect him the way Clarice would, not even Marcos or his fellow soldiers.

“It’s only fun if it’s consensual,” she teased, which was incredibly attractive. “But like, actually. What’s the plan here?”

“Set up a meeting, find out if she knows what the hell this is, maybe contact other groups and team up against the Inner Circle.” John sighed. “I’d really rather focus on helping people that need it as opposed to fighting other mutants, but if the past month’s quiet is over, I don’t know if it can be helped.” 

Clarice nodded. “I think talking is a good first step,” she agreed. “I’m coming with you though.”

“Thank you,” he replied, kissing her again. “You are so good to me.”

She laughed, chasing him for one more kiss. “You’re damn right I am.” She glanced at the clock. “You gonna call her now?” she asked dubiously, but he shook his head at her. He didn’t even need her doubt to tell him it was probably a bad move.

“A text is probably better at this time of day,” he decided, drawing relief from her approving nod. “Should we get Marcos? See what he thinks?”

Clarice shook her head. “I don’t think there’s anything to be done now. Plus, Cristina’s in his apartment and she deserves sleep. We can check on him tomorrow.”

“Smart,” John replied, typing out a message to Evangeline. He wasn’t sure quite how to play it - demanding or placating? - but he did his absolute best. Hitting send, he decided the rest would be for the morning to worry about, but he turned his phone’s ringer up all the way, just in case.

Clarice crawled back under the covers and held out her arms. “Come back to bed, soldier. We’ve got a few more hours til we can see anything, anyway.”

Obligingly, he climbed in next to her, settling into her embrace. As he drifted back to sleep, he wished they could stay like this forever.

* * *

Andy was dreaming. Or he was pretty sure he was, anyway, because he’d only seen his mom and Marcos, but now he was somewhere entirely different, and Lauren was there too.

He couldn’t ignore the joy he felt at seeing her again. But the joy quickly turned sour when he saw the look on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. 

He glanced around. “Where is here, exactly?”

“The roof of my apartment building.” Lauren crossed her arms, leaning against a brick ledge. Milky dawn greeted them both and restored the barest bit of light to the city. Washington DC wasn’t the kind of place Andy would ever call beautiful, but his fingers ached to sketch the skyline anyway. 

“Ah.” He shrugged, nonchalant. “I dunno, man, you tell me.”

She looked at him, askance. “So this is just gonna be like...a thing, now? You in my dreams?” She groaned. “I was having a very lovely dream before you popped in here, I hope you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “About Wes?” Classic annoying younger brother.

“Cristina, actually, who you would know if you hadn’t bailed on the damn family.” Lauren bit her lip.

That stung, but he didn’t want her to know that. “Ah. Perks of an open relationship,” he snarked back.

“She lost her younger sister. We’re helping find her. John is tracking.” She looked up at the sky. “It’s not exactly the same, but I can empathize. About missing your younger sibling and all that.”

“I’m not coming back,” he replied sharply, though something in his gut wanted to quite badly. God, he missed her. “You could always join us, if you miss me so much.”

She barked a laugh. “As if.” She shook her head. “Blowing up buildings has never really been my style.”

“Well, Reeva says we’re done with that, so maybe the new shit _will_ be your style,” he replied bitterly. He didn’t know how to feel about these new changes, but since they consisted of Reeva trying to send him away, he wasn’t too thrilled.

Lauren scrunched her brow. “Why do you sound so disappointed?”

“I’m good at blowing shit up.” He shrugged. “Everyone wants to do stuff they’re good at. Besides, we were doing good work.”

Lauren raked a hand through her hair, a short and choppy motion. “Do you have any idea how many goddamn Sentinel Services raids we had to clean up after because of your ‘good work’?” she demanded. “People _died_ Andy, and not just in that mall you tore down.”

He looked away guiltily. He didn’t like that. It was supposed to be working. 

But clearly Reeva had a point.

“Why’d you go to bed so late?” Lauren asked after a stretch of silence.

“What?”

“It’s almost dawn. At least I think, if the scenery can be trusted.” She pointed to the sky. “You just went to bed, right? Otherwise we would’ve started this - whatever this is” - she waved her hands around - “way earlier.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “I was hanging out with Lorna and the baby.”

“The baby?” Lauren’s face fell. “Oh, Marcos is going to be so disappointed he missed it.”

“Nah, he was there. He and Mom showed up, for some reason. I guess Reeva got them.” Andy shrugged, like it hadn’t been a big deal to see his mother and get hugged. 

Now it was Lauren’s turn to give a very confused “What?”

“The baby. Mom and Marcos were here. Didn’t you notice they were gone?” Andy asked, skeptical. They lived together, and Lauren was way too observant.

She swallowed guiltily, shaking her head. “Mom and I had a fight. I’m sleeping at Marcos’ place.”

“He doesn’t live with you?” Andy asked, unsure how to feel. On the one hand, that was good, because it was still super weird for him to think about Marcos and his parents together. On the other hand, he wanted them to be happy.

Plus there was the matter of how Lorna looked at his mom. Which was kinda weird. But familiar all the same.

Lauren gave a humorless laugh, sliding down to sit on the ground. “No. It’s a strong point of contention.”

He didn’t want to ask what his mother and Lauren had fought about. Somewhere inside him, he felt like he knew the answer already.

He walked over to the ledge and sat down next to her, an arm’s length away. “Her name’s Aurora,” he volunteered. “You’re gonna love her. I made her a hat.”

Lauren offered him a thin smile. “Thanks, kid.” She looked older than when he’d last seen her, older than eighteen. He’d already missed so much of her life in six months. The same way she’d missed so much of his.

They sat in silence for a little while longer until Lauren disappeared and the dream changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive and I'm still working on this, slowly but surely, I promise. I got struck by a huge pang of missing this show today since I heard "I Dare You" by The XX on the radio, and it inspired me to do a small burst of writing and to post a finished chapter. Thanks to all of you loyal folks who stick with me through school and long pauses, I really appreciate you.


	9. Chapter 9

Reed hated waking up alone after an argument. It happened sometimes, since they had two apartments: Caitlin would get mad at him and stay the night at Marcos’ because Reed just “didn’t understand.” But he thought they’d resolved it last night - the conversation had gone so well. And she usually didn’t leave while he was asleep.

He climbed out of bed to make some coffee. He almost knocked on Lauren’s bedroom door to offer her some before he remembered she was over at Marcos’ too.

Just him in the apartment, then. A little lonelier than he’d like. It left too much room to think and worry and not enough things to fill his mind. 

There were so many things to worry about. Like the way he and his wife had been fighting, or how Marcos seemed caught between them sometimes, or how his teenage son was out there blowing up buildings, or how he’d been feeling...ill, lately, with no explanation. 

He stood in front of the coffee maker, arms crossed and waiting, as he debated making breakfast for the others - especially Caitlin, if she was mad enough to steal away in the middle of the night - but before he could decide, there came a knock on the door.

Reed peered through the peephole to see his daughter in one of Marcos’ t-shirts as pajamas and a pair of flip flops.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greeted as he opened the door. “You want breakfast?”

Lauren nodded. “I’d die for some waffles right now.”

Reed laughed. “I can definitely make some waffles.” He began pulling ingredients out of their rather bare cabinets. Their lives may be going to hell in seven different ways, but at the very least, he could make his daughter some waffles.

When she was younger - when life was simpler - they had a standing waffles date, one Sunday morning per month. Lauren would tell him all about her week, and he would listen intently, and she would get whipped cream on her nose and they’d laugh.

And then she got older and he worked more and they started skipping months. And now his little girl was a whole adult on the run from the law that wanted her dead, and he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had waffles, and it _hurt_.

“Dad, are you good?”

“Huh?” he snapped back into reality, glancing down to see some red dancing around his hands. He looked over at Lauren’s confused face and he knew she’d seen it too, noticed what he’d been trying to keep secret so as not to worry everyone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

She came over to the kitchen and poured two mugs of coffee, looking at him doubtfully, but she let the subject drop. “Are mom and Marcos still sleeping?” she asked.

Reed stopped his culinary work to turn to her in confusion. “No. Aren’t they over with you?”

Lauren’s hands trembled as she put down the coffee mugs and then dragged her palms across her face. “Well, shit.”

His wife was missing. His boyfriend, too. A million horrifying thoughts rushed through Reed’s head, each worse than the last. What if they’d gone to see Wire? What if they were hurt somewhere?

The world was spinning and he was in _agony_ , panicked ropes of pain wrapping around his arms and his body. It was an attack, he knew. And worse, Lauren was right there.

No hiding now. 

He took deep breaths, but his mind wouldn’t stop screaming. Dimly, he was aware of Lauren shouting for him; the light in his hands was too all-consuming, however, and he couldn’t drag his head up.

“Dad!” she shouted once more, then hissed. “ _Ow_!”

He snapped back into reality, the red energy fizzling out like it’d never been there at all. Lauren was clutching her palm, which was laced with a bright red burn mark like jagged strings across her palm.

“Oh, Lauren. I’m so sorry!” Reed was appalled to see the damage he’d done to his child. This was exactly the scenario he’d been trying to prevent.

She waved him off. “I’m fine,” she offered unconvincingly through gritted teeth, stepping past him to run her hand under cold water. “Dad, what the hell?” She stared at him reproachfully. “Are those your _powers_?”

Lauren was quick; it’d taken him a couple episodes to realize what was happening. Reed weighed his options for a response before settling on “Maybe?” It sounded hollow even to him.

“How long has this been going on?” she demanded, picking up one coffee mug with her uninjured hand and taking a swig.

“A few months,” he confessed, unable to meet her eyes. “It started off mild, but it’s just gotten bigger and bigger. Only when I’m stressed, like because your mother is missing.” At that, his hands began to pulse again.

Lauren shook her head quickly. “No, she’s not missing. I know where they are, I just don’t like it.” She sighed. “I have...a confession as well.” She took another long swig of coffee, glancing up to the heavens. “Andy and I have been...sharing dreams, I guess. At first I thought it was just because I missed him, but he said Mom and Marcos were with Lorna because she delivered the baby, and then I woke up and they’re gone…” She sighed again. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I guess it’s just another super weird way we’re linked.”

“Ah.” Maybe if they gave you a book with all the answers for parenting, it wouldn’t be so hard. But Reed didn’t think things like this would make it into any book. While he was trying to think of something to say, she’d already moved on.

“You need to tell Mom and Marcos when they get back,” Lauren declared, staring him down. It was like she was daring him to argue, and he wondered when she’d become such a caretaker. “And you need to tell John, and you need to train.”

“I don’t need to train,” Reed began to protest, but a look from his daughter silenced him. “Okay, fine.” He didn’t know if he actually intended to follow through, but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He wanted to pretend things were normal for awhile. Pretend he was normal.

Lauren tapped the counter next to the forgotten bowl of batter. “So. Waffles?” she asked. “For you, me, and Cristina?”

Reed nodded. “Waffles.” There was only one thing to do at a time like this, and that was whatever Lauren wanted.

* * *

Clarice was still fucking tired. And she was grumpy, because she had to have those stupid contacts in and cover up her marks. It made her itchy to be cut off from her powers like this.

John had told her to practice, but he didn’t understand. His powers were in him. Her powers - they were all around her, and the stupid contacts were like wrapping her whole body in bubble wrap duct tape, then asking her to pick toothpicks off the floor. For her, to be hidden and safe meant to be vulnerable. 

“Is this the place?” she asked, staring up at the pristine white high rise. It was too damn early for any of this, but it was bright enough that the fact only half the city had electricity again was less obvious. 

John nodded, opening the car door without a word. It was obvious he was stressed out, and he kept flinching at loud noises. When they were both out of the car, he reached out to grasp her hand tightly. She squeezed back.

“I still think we should’ve brought Marcos,” she groused. 

John shrugged apologetically. “She said to come as soon as possible. There wasn’t a sound inside his apartment.”

“She can fucking wait.” Clarice sighed. She was not looking forward to meeting this woman, no matter how much John liked her.

There were fifteen floors between them and Evangeline Whedon’s office, and Clarice watched John silently count every one. He was anxious and she was grumpy, which meant this interaction was going to go _great_.

His hand twitched in hers as the doors dinged and slid open, revealing a sterile hallway lined with closed office doors. John counted his way down the hall until they found themselves in front of a nondescript door with a simple name plate reading “E. Whedon.”

They stood awkwardly. Clarice waited for John to knock. 

“Technically, she also said to come alone,” he said, more out of principle than actual desire for Clarice to leave, she knew. 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m important in this organization too. If she’s mad I’m here in capacity as a leader of the Mutant Underground, she can eat my entire ass.”

John snorted, rewarding her with a thin smile. “You’re a leader, now?”

She shrugged, trying to mask the trepidation that sentence brought her. “Lorna’s gone, so I figured you could use all the help you can get.” She didn’t feel ready for leadership - she never had in her time spent on the run, and she’d always preferred a more of a solitary lifestyle. But now she had John to think about, and Lauren and the Struckers and Marcos, and John wasn’t doing so well, so it didn’t much matter whether she was ready or not. 

It didn’t look like John intended to do it any time soon, so Clarice reached her hand out and gave one sharp knock on the door.

“Come in,” was the muffled reply. 

John pushed open the door to lead the way, revealing an elegantly-dressed white woman with lips that looked like they’d been smeared tastefully with berries. Her shirt was the only part of her outfit visible from where she sat at the desk, but the crisp white blouse alone seemed like it was worth more than _anything_ Clarice had ever owned.

“John,” Evangeline greeted warmly, the corners of her lips turning downward as her gaze slid to Clarice. “Oh. And you must be Clarice. I was under the impression that John and I would be alone.”

“Thought I’d come along since we’ve never had the chance to meet.” Clarice shoved out her hand, acutely aware what she looked like next to this well-put-together woman and choosing not to care. 

She didn’t feel intimidated, really, but rather something like anger. It seemed ridiculous that someone like Evangeline could wear designer blouses, hold a 9-5, and occasionally liaison for the Mutant Underground, while the people like John and especially Clarice, who could never ever pass for human, lived on scrounged bits and worked out on the streets doing the actual hard part.

“A pleasure,” Evangeline replied in a voice that suggested it was anything but. She gestured to the single chair in front of her desk. 

John glanced at Clarice, not sure what to do, but she nodded for him to sit. She’d rather stand, anyway. He sat down even though he was probably twice the size of the intended user, which Clarice found amusing.

“So you said you were worried that the blackouts were an Inner Circle terror attack,” Evangeline began, waiting for John to confirm with a nod. “I did my best to look into it, and there’s no indication that they were.”

“But it’s Lorna,” John protested. “I know what her powers feel like; there’s no way this wasn’t her.” 

Clarice placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, sizing up Evangeline.

The older woman pursed her lips. “Maybe so. But it wasn’t a terror attack, else there would be information by now. Have you heard anything?” she demanded, but it was rhetorical, because she barely waited for John to shake his head. “Nothing to be worried about.” Except she bit her lip when she said it in a way that did nothing to convince Clarice of their safety. “And I hope you know what a risk it is for me to even do this.” She sighed. “Really, John, you know I care about you and the organization but...if they connect my firm to any of this…” 

“I know.” John sighed. “I appreciate the help.” 

“Forget about the Inner Circle, John, and focus on what really matters,” Evangeline counseled. “It’s a waste of time and energy to fight them.”

While Clarice agreed that chasing the Inner Circle was pointless, she didn’t like the way Evangeline was patronizing a very capable adult man. She chafed, but John put a hand on her hand to steady her. 

“With all due respect,” he replied, “I believe the Inner Circle really matters. Not only do they have Lorna and Andy, two of our members, their terror attacks have been making our jobs harder. Look at the Liberty Park apartment complex.”

“Have you found that little girl you’re looking for, yet?” Evangeline demanded pointedly. John grimaced. “The Liberty Park raid took place almost a full month after the cessation of the terror attacks. How many people died? How many more would’ve, if we weren’t there to pick up the pieces?”

Clarice hated the way she said ‘we.’ Evangeline had done nothing; it was them on the ground, picking up the pieces.

“My sources tell me that Reeva Payge has taken over the Inner Circle, and whole her methods are… _unorthodox_ , they hardly warrant our attention over Sentinel Services.” Evangeline shook her head. There were a million words she was leaving unsaid there, and Clarice knew it, but she couldn’t read between the lines. “I should think you’d be renewed in your focus on stopping and thwarting Sentinel Services, what with your failures in Atlanta.”

John visibly deflated. Sure, it was their job was to keep mutants safe, not chase the Inner Circle, but Clarice couldn’t let a slight like that go.

“And where were you?” she demanded, pulling Evangeline’s attention for the first time. “If you’re so in charge, where were you when they brought the hounds against us? Because John and I were making damn sure everyone made it out safe and alive, and, counter to the reports that we all died, we succeeded. The only casualties were Sentinels.”

John looked at her in distress, and she was sure he wanted her to stop talking, but she wasn’t about to back down and let this woman walk all over him like that. 

“I’m sorry?” Evangeline’s brow creased, though Clarice knew she’d heard just fine.

“Because it looks to me like you’re up here in your high castle with your nice blouses and your law firm, and even though you hand-picked John because you _knew_ what a damn good leader he’d make, you face none of the consequences for his so-called _failure_ ,” Clarice spat. “We’re on the ground with the dirty work, we’re moving fugitives, so don’t you _dare_ try to criticize us unless you’re ready to crawl down into the dirt with us.”

Evangeline set her mouth in a hard line. “My work is vital, and without my peers, you all would still be on the streets.” 

“And without us, hundreds of mutants would be in custody or dead,” Clarice fired back. She spun on her heel. “This was a waste of time. John, come on. We’ll get no help here.”

Evangeline didn’t bother to try to stop her. Clarice was out faster than John, who lingered behind to exchange more words with the dragon lady. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Evangeline sounded...softer. Perhaps more worried. But John still looked displeased as he emerged.

“Well, there’s a bridge burned,” he sighed.

Clarice rolled her eyes. “She wasn’t helpful anyway.”

“She’s the goddamn leader of the _national network_ , Clarice.” John scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “Now I have to figure out if I need to apologize, or how to fix this.”

She wheeled around on him. “Absolutely not. You’re a damn good leader, John Proudstar, and no Upper Middle Class white woman with hands that clean gets to talk to you like that, ever. If you won’t defend yourself, I will.” She turned back and poked the elevator button with far more force than necessary.

He rubbed his hands against his forehead, but he rewarded her with a small smile, even though she didn’t see what was amusing about the situation. 

“What is it?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “It’s just...you remind me of Lorna right now.” He gave a small chuckle as the elevator doors dinged open and they stepped inside.

Clarice snorted, crossing her arms. “Has Lorna ever talked to Evangeline like that before?”

“Oh, God, no,” John replied, laughing a little harder. “Evangeline was the one person who was safe from Lorna’s ire. She felt...indebted, since Evangeline rescued her from that mental institution.”

Clarice nodded sharply. “Well, then it’s about damn time _someone_ talked to her like that.” She couldn’t help but feel a little self-satisfied at that. 

John leaned back against the wall. “Neither of you have any patience for politics.”

“I don’t have patience for being patronized,” Clarice corrected.

“In this world, they’re the same, sometimes.” John sighed. “I’m not good at it, either, for the record. I feel - I always feel like I’m drowning. I’m not clever, I can’t talk in circles. But I try.”

She shook her head, refusing to accept his statement. “No. You’re incredibly clever. You’re the best damn leader I’ve ever met, because unlike people like Evangeline, you’re involved. You’re down on the ground with your people, connected, getting your hands dirty.”

“Thanks.” John offered a weak smile, most of his humor replaced by insecurity. He didn’t seem to believe her, but that was okay. He would with time. 

He heaved a sigh, like the mere act of breathing overwhelmed him. He deserved a backrub and some hot cocoa. “So what’s the plan?” he asked. Looking at her. For guidance.

She didn’t exactly like that, but she knew the answer anyway. “We find Cristina’s sister. We keep helping mutants. We work on taking on Sentinel Services.” She dragged one hand through her long, purple hair, vaguely annoyed by how tangled it was. “But first, we go home and shower and eat, and we fill in the others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new update.   
> I'm trying, y'all. Slowly but surely trucking away. I really miss this show, especially the absolute joy it brought me during season one.   
> Thank you for the support.


End file.
